For A Few Corpses More - Pt. 3

               The French Quarter of Elysium city was one of the first parts of the space colonies built. It was originally an arrival and processing area that after the initial egress of the planet was no longer required. For the first few years it was the home of many surviving residents of the Southern United States and Mexico until the housing divisions were finished for each city. It was then refitted and divided into four large sections. One of the four sections remained as homes for those that owned or operated businesses around this district. It was pretty plain for the most part with a lot of ivy growing over lattice work; iron gates outside of the townhouse homes.

               Two of the other sections were divided up for holding shops that specialized in fashion and art, specialty food items and jewelry, everything other than the necessities. The final quarter, the one with its street lights and buildings done up in reds and purples to contrast against the dark painted walls and festive greens and golds that hung from the balconies and banners around it, held the majority of the entertainment businesses for the night life crowd. Bars, clubs, adult film theatres and prostitution houses lined the streets in this area and men and women stood outside of each giving their best efforts to convince the passer-bys to come in.

               The White Tiger club was probably the biggest of its type in Elysium city. It had a bright flashing white sign and a hand painted image of the creature it took its name from behind it. There were other small random green and red lights that littered the outside wall of the club that made it stand out. From the ground level up close though, you could see the bouncers, standing by the doorway and scrutinizing everyone who came up. They gave the men who wanted in a friendly pat down before they entered and the few women got an even friendlier one. Closer to the street though there were two girls who danced around the long poles of the streetlamps topless, beckoning patrons to enter.

               The inside of the club was two stories with an oriental theme. White and pink lights in long sheets lit up the bottom floor with greens and yellow bulbs lining the second. The lights were blinding on the first floor with four stages that the people were gathered around. The music that thumped through the speakers had no lyrics, something made hastily on a computer for very cheap. The music business had taken a hit since they had moved off of the planet. Turn the bass on anything up loud enough though and drown it out, it’ll work for background noise. The drinks were usually watered down and the food was almost non-existent, but no one came for those things.

               On each of the four stages a new dancer appeared every hour. Their styles varied and their costumes were personalized, a mixture of girls from different parts of the world formerly, or other cities if they were really young. Working the poles with precision the dancers moved to the rhythm that vibrated the walls. Underneath the lights they entertained the men and women that came in after work. Good entertainment was hard to find in these cities.

               Nyx was on stage one tonight and she was quite the draw. There were a few things that made her stand out from the other girls and people took notice. She was an exceptional dancer with a body that was not too thin or overly toned. Food was harder to come by depending on your situation and most of it was processed meal paste or military rations. Nyx’ extracurricular activities kept her in a bit more money and better fed, as well as worked her body out. Her time down on Earth also gave her something the majority of the other girls couldn’t easily get, a tan. Nyx hadn’t been just kissed by the sun; they were quite intimate as it were. Dangerous, sure, but she liked the feel of it compared to the coldness she felt up here.

               Flexible, a compliment she had received often. She knew how to manipulate the pole and as she put it to the other girls, move in waves as if you were water. She chalked some of her expertise up to her practice in Tai Chi and gymnastics training. She wished she had stuck with gymnastics more but when one teacher dies and the next one keeps trying to touch you inappropriately, interest can be lost quickly.

               The tattoo on her back was a large mural of an ornate catholic cross with the background of the full circular moon. It was detailed and had taken a few years to get finished but it was her, her name meant night. She embraced it and the symbol of the cross meant a lot to her and her faith. She wore a similar one around her neck at all times, a gold cross on a silver chain, even when she danced. The mural on her body looked good under the flashing lights, customers always asked about it.

               These types of clubs had changed a lot since relocating to space. It was hard to slide electronic credit singles into the garter belt or g-string of an entertaining dancer. Instead, now there were a series of small ports patrons could tip their favorites with. People were generally a little stingier now though and more concerned about themselves, that’s where the second floor came in.

               Like in the old days, the girls would walk around the floor of the club when they weren’t dancing on stage. There was always the offer of the lap dance or private table performance but with the military in control prostitution was a hundred percent legal. They just taxed the hell out of it with the clubs. So the clubs set up a second floor where men danced on one side and women on the other, private performances that lead to negotiations. Once the arrangement was made there were private rooms towards the back of the top floor that the girls paid to use to make their money. You had to pay to get up to the top floor in the first place though and going up there almost guaranteed you’d be spending more money for something, even if you didn’t want to touch.

               It was a night like tonight that Nyx had decided she was in the mood to take Gerald upstairs. He was a repeat customer, hell she knew all of them, but he was a good customer. He had even worn a tie tonight with the old pale blue jacket and the bushy mustache that accented his boy like smile. Her bosses harassed her when she didn’t do this part enough but she had built up enough of a reputation as a ‘draw’ in the club that she could tell them to fuck off from time to time. She wasn’t proud of it but it was work and next to hunting or a nice government job it was some of the best credits you could make. She knew exactly what Gerald wanted and their exchange was little more than two sentences.

               “Usual price okay, honey,” she asked as she plopped into his lap in the dark red chair in the private room.

               He had been undressing her with his eyes, a task that wasn’t hard since all she was wearing was a dark green bikini and grey boots with fur on them.

               “Sounds good,” Gerald said with a big smile as he placed a large calloused hand on her bare thigh. “You’re too good to me, Nyx, you know that?”

               “Or,” she proposed as she ran a thumb gently over his cheek, “you just may be too hard on yourself there, big guy.”

               She kissed him softly for a long moment, suckling on his bottom lip before sliding off of his lap. She smiled and extended her hand, palm face up. She coyly bit the fingernail on her other hand as she waited. The man pulled out the small device that looked like an electronic drive with a small disk at the end, a virtual wallet, everyone had one here. Nyx took it from him and went to a small black table that held an electronic device that she swiped it under. It was out of the way in the small dark room with the dim red lights and padded walls, so the customer wouldn’t be thinking about how much they were spending. When the dim blue light flashed she punched in a series of numbers on the keypad and smiled at Gerald, handing it back to him.

               She resumed her position back on his lap. Instead of simply plopping down though, she wrapped an arm around his neck and slid in a bit more seductively. She kissed his neck as her left hand tugged at the string to her bikini top. She threw the dark green fabric to the couch across from them, revealing her breasts to him. Part of why Gerald liked Nyx was because her breasts were nice and round as well as the cute dark nipples on them being erect from the cold of the space station and as tanned as the rest of her body.  He gently placed a hand on one of them and then slid it down her flat stomach over the belly button piercing she had. She kissed the side of his face then nibbled on his ear as she felt the fingers push between flesh and fabric, lifting up the last piece of clothing she had on and slowly sliding underneath them between her legs.

               Nyx sighed contently, head moving to lean back on his shoulder. Her hand ran down his chest. She relaxed a bit, knowing he’d be content for a few minutes as he had his fun. She was exhausted as she lay there on Gerald, conserving her energy for what was to come. Coming back from the hunting trips always meant that she’d be tired for the next couple of days but she couldn’t lie to herself. She already wanted to get out of here, to get back to the dangerous warzone for some reason. She wondered why she liked it better than the safety of space.

               In the midst of these thoughts and the act of moving her hips slightly against Gerald’s hand she almost didn’t hear the sound of the doorknob moving. It was locked. Whoever it was would get the idea that the room was occupied and go onto another one. The noise came again though with the metal scraping against metal sound a little bit tougher this time. Nyx shot up awkwardly, away from Gerald and his playful hand. He looked stunned and was still sitting as the door was forcefully pushed open. Nyx threw an arm up over her breasts to cover them, barely having time to do that.

               Two men in gray and black military fatigues stood at the door with guns attached to their belts and the first with a flashlight he was shining at her, then Gerald. The marine motioned out the door behind his partner with the light as he looked at Gerald.

               “You, out,” the officer’s voice was serious.

               Gerald obliged him after shooting a glance at Nyx. She figured if he could have spoken to her he’d have said he was sorry, but he hoped she would be okay. The marines weren’t like the guards though. You didn’t want to test them. Gerald was out of the room by the time Nyx turned around and picked up her top. With her back to the men, she replaced it quickly.

               By the time she had turned back to them the marine with the flash light had closed the distance and had an outstretched hand towards her that held a small digital pad on it. She paused for a moment, realizing she could cross out a few of the reasons to why she thought they were here. She took the pad in her hand and looked it over. With an eyebrow raised in confusion she briefly scanned the electronic document that came up at her touch. The words all made since but the usual jargon was there which caused her to have to re-read a couple of parts. It didn’t really sink in though until she scrolled down. On the last page at the bottom of the document was the emblem of the large bird in gold and black, the seal of the president.

               The security office for the French Quarter was like any of the other government built buildings, grey and dull with large walls around it. This particular one was nestled in between two rail bridges which caused an almost constant humming sound. The machinery for the defense systems added their own buzzing sound to the noise surrounding the building, much like the bright lights that lit up the area around the walls of the security office though, the noise was only heard when they were actually working.

               Bronson stepped from the darkness of the French Quarter streets into the bright blue of the flood lights. Bronson nodded to the guard in the small box-like station and was preparing to go in until he heard a voice call after him.

               “Bronson, hey man!”

               Pausing, Bronson looked up at the scraggly-haired individual who was coming from the darkened street and into the light with a panicked look on his face.

               “Cletus.”

               “Bronson, Bro, come on man. I need some help.” Cletus spoke quickly and with furious hand gestures. “I need some credits man or Tiger Mike’s going to fucking kill me dude. You’ve got to help me man.” His eyes were bloodshot and pleading. His hand was already shaking as he held out his credit drive for his money.

               “Cletus, you’re using again.”

               “No man, no. The hell man, you-you know I wouldn’t start that shit again after what it did to me.” He almost sounded convincing. “After I got the job at the plant and you helped me out, I wouldn’t do that to you man.”

               “Cletus,” Bronson said his name louder to quiet him. “I told you six weeks ago that Tiger Mike was killed in the raid. You’re just back into your bad habit.”

               There was a sobering moment of silence as Cletus’ head dropped and synapses slowly fired that he had been ignoring. He only looked back up when he felt Bronson’s grip around his forearm. Cletus looked up with tears in his eyes as his body shook.

               “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

               Bronson nodded to the guard and the red laser fence at the entrance to the walls dropped. The two men entered the complex as it came back up and the building shook while the two rail cars passed by overhead.       

               After Cletus was put into the detox cell and Bronson finished the paperwork he was finally able to stow his gear in the locker room, a sure sign of what kind of night it would be at work. He was on desk for the first two hours. He still checked his weapon once again and looked over the board to see what he had missed while he had been gone back on Earth.

               “You hear what those koala-fuckers did this time?”

               Opie Pascal had come in behind him with a grin on his face as he finished off a nutrient bar and missed the trashcan with the balled up wrapper.

               “No, I didn’t.”

               “Those Aussie pricks aren’t going to let us send any more people their way, they’re closing off their borders. Hell, the brass says they may stop sending us supplies next. They’re pissing off all of the cities. Valhalla and Mandarin city are both pushing to go to war over this shit.”

               Bronson paused and mulled over the information for a minute as Opie grabbed a watered down soda from the fridge.

               “I just don’t get it man. They’ve gone native.”

               “They were the only ones that weren’t infected. They were smart and shut the borders off before it could get over there.” Bronson answered him in an informative manner as if Opie didn’t already know the reason. The other officer scoffed as his soda opened with a pop.

               “They were too chicken shit scared to come up here and now they think we’re going to infect them by coming back down or something? I don’t get it.” He kicked the chair out from under the table to sit on it. “I think we should go down there. Take that place over, grow our own shit. It’s our damn right; most of us are from Earth originally.”

               “Riots still going on in Cairo City,” Bronson asked, changing the subject.

               “Nah,” Opie said pulling up an electronic pad to read the news. “They got that shit handled, I knew they would.”

               Bronson simply nodded to his fellow guard and excused himself, heading out of the room. Opie was just one of the many men that he felt didn’t deserve to be a guard. In truth they were bullies or hate-filled individuals who wanted the power and authority that came with the shield. The ability to carry a weapon when others couldn’t and to make people respect you because of how hard you could make their lives here appealed to people like Opie Pascal. They had to have a talk with him about using his position to stalk his ex-girlfriend a couple of times.

               Bronson took his job seriously, and the oath he swore was to protect not harass. He headed to the front of the building to the desk. There he’d spend a couple of hours watching the monitoring boards and answering calls. Other officers came in and out of the building and spoke to him or discussed reports they were handing in. He fielded several information calls and put out a few dispatches of reports to different locations outside of the French Quarter. It wasn’t until his time at the desk was almost up that he got the domestic abuse call.

               The buzzer went off and the address scrolled across the small screen in a sickly green text. Bronson stood and straightened his uniform before he checked his pistol for the fourth time that night. Opie was heading towards the desk as Bronson headed out.

               “I’m answering the 414 before I start my patrol. Everyone else is handling something else.”

               “Okay,” he said as he set his ass down in the chair where it would spend the rest of the night. “Yeah I’m good.”

               “You’ve got the desk for the rest of the night,” He stated the obvious to Opie to make sure he did his job. Something that he hated he had to do to feel better about leaving him alone there.

               He nodded to the man in the guard hut as the laser fence came back on behind him. Double checking the address on his electronic palm he turned to the left and headed towards the apartment buildings the business owners and their families stayed in. The street was quiet tonight for the most part as he passed by the different colored buildings. He took a glance towards the White Tiger and the other clubs. He knew Nyx was at work tonight and still needed to pass off her part of the credits to her. Bronson wasn’t a fan of going into those establishments though unless there was a reason for him to be there, especially while he was in uniform.

               He was two streets away from the address and the possibilities of the scenario began running through his mind. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before but the spats of jealous lovers can sometimes turn unintentionally violent. When two people are in a heated argument, you arrive suddenly to break it up. You are the new aggressor and the focus of their anger. It didn’t matter. He was always cautious and would judge the situation once he got there. He was already planning out the route he would take for his patrols tonight. He liked to change things up so that he didn’t become predictable.

               Turning on to Kings Rd. he realized that he was being followed. It wasn’t uncommon to see two soldiers walking the normal beat down here with the guards, but there were usually circumstances behind it. The late hour made it odd as well. Bronson eyed them for a moment as his hand moved slowly to his side. They were both carrying weapons; one of them had a scoped assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

               “Officer Bronson,” one of the men called out when it was obvious that they had been spotted.

               The three men stood almost alone on the windy street eyeing each other. Bronson nodded and glanced down at his badge, letting them know they could check it. He felt uncomfortable though and his hand didn’t move from where it was as the other came to rest on his hip.

               “This is for you,” the soldier in the hat said, outstretching a hand with the small electronic pad in it. There was a smug expression that stood out to Bronson.

               “You mind,” he asked, pointing down to his own badge around his neck.

               The two marines glanced at each other as if this was unusual. They both reached for the chains around their necks and pulled out the metal badges that hung around them. Bronson took out the PDA device from his belt and after running a thumb across the screen a green light emerged that he ran over the barcodes on their badges. Each one gave him a polite tone of acceptance. When he was done he simply nodded and took the data pad that the man had offered him.

               His eyes scanned over the same document and symbol at the bottom that Nyx’ had not long before. He read parts of it again. Handing it back to the soldier he folded his arms in front of him.

               “I understand,” Bronson acknowledged to them. “Currently I am on a distress call but I’ll go to his office as soon as I’m off shift.”

               “That won’t be necessary officer. Someone else has already been dispatched for that call. Your presence in the President’s office is required sooner rather than later. We can take you straight there.”

               Nodding to the two soldiers he felt that familiar sinking sensation he didn’t like starting up again in his stomach.